


A Betrayal of  Meteorological Proportions

by TitaniumKitten



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Crack, Profanity, utter silliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-25
Updated: 2016-06-25
Packaged: 2018-07-18 04:31:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7299673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TitaniumKitten/pseuds/TitaniumKitten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is jealous of Seth's acting credits. Roman is supportive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Betrayal of  Meteorological Proportions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [intergalacticbooty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/intergalacticbooty/gifts).



Roman sighs and runs his fingers through his hair. It’s been a tough night. He’s so happy to have Seth back, but the hazards of the job make it almost impossible for them to hang out due to their current on screen animosity. He’s not looking forward to starting up the same with Dean, but Creative has been pretty clear that come July there will be no love lost among the three of them. He takes another sip from his gatorade and saunters out to the parking lot. He just wants to get back to the hotel and get a nice hot bath; see if he can work out some muscle aches.

He hears the slap of sneakers on the asphalt behind him. Dean; he thinks idly. He’s gotten used to the sound of Dean. Can pick out his favorite pair of sneakers (that are half falling apart) a mile away. He turns slightly as Dean playfully bumps shoulders with him.

“All this room in this parking lot and you got to get in my personal bubble?” Roman asks, a slight edge of exasperation in his voice.

“Fuckin’ Axel forgot I was riding with him ‘n the rest of those idiots.” Dean huffs. “Can I get a ride to the hotel with you?”

Roman grunts, Dean taking it as a sign of acquiescence. He’s gotten used to the sound of Roman. They head to the car in companionable silence, setting their suitcases in the trunk.  
Dean sighs happily as he settles in the passenger seat. “Damn. My whole body is one big bruise tonight.”

Roman snorts. “Tell me about it. I just want a hot bath and to crack open the mini bar.”

“Ooo...mini bar. Being the champ has its perks.” Dean fiddles with the radio and puts on some classic rock. 

Led Zeppelin, Roman thinks as he starts up the car. He’s gotten used to Dean’s eclectic music tastes. Anything from Pantera to Dolly Parton. Last time they rode together Dean insisted on playing some weird mix cd that Zayn gave him. Singing along awkwardly; twitching in his seat, explaining that he was skanking. Dean enjoying the hell out of ska and some esoteric bands Roman’s never heard of made him uncomfortably realize that they were already slipping away from each other. He made a silent vow that Creative would only fuck up their onscreen friendship and turned to Dean to engage him in conversation.

“What the hell, man?” The Samoan practically squeaks. Dean is poking at a smart phone, his tongue peeking out between his teeth as he concentrates. “When the hell did you get that?!”

“Like a week ago. Cesaro was upgrading or somethin’ and he insisted I take his old one. Gonna see if wwe.com has put up an article talking about what a douche nozzle Seth is. I mean, I know they weren’t turnin’ him face when he came back. But I swear it’s getting to his head. Heard him grumble at a PA when she couldn’t find him a Feejee water tonight. What the hell is Feejee water anyway?”  
Roman decides not to explain. They fall back into companionable silence again for a few minutes.

“HOLY FUCK! What the fucking fuck that absolute fuck!” Dean’s horrified screaming has Roman screeching on the brakes, pulling over to the side of the road with his heart pounding.

“What the hell, Dean?”

Dean’s hands are shaking, but looking in his face Roman can tell it’s with anger, not fear. He takes the phone and looks down at the article Dean has pulled up. He’s actually pretty proud of Dean for being able to navigate the smartphone so he doesn’t realize what he’s looking at for a few seconds.

“Oh shit…”

“Oh shit is right! That fucking asshat. I’m gonna beat the crap outta him. How dare he? How fuckin’ dare he do this to me?!” 

“It’s...it’s not that bad..” Roman hazards.

“Not that bad?! It’s like you don’t even know me! Ever since the first one came out you both knew how important they are to me. Frigging poetry in motion. I bet he did it on purpose. Just to show me up. I knew he was doing that one scary movie. But this? This is...is….blasphemy!” Dean buries his head in his hands.

“Hey. At least he’s probably going to get eaten by a shark.”

“But, I wanted to be eaten by a shark. Or use Barbie on one.” comes a dejected response. There are suspiciously sniffly noises coming from beneath Dean’s hands. 

Roman places a gentle hand on Dean’s shoulder. “Waffle House?”

“Waffle House.” Dean responds. He sniffs and tosses the phone in the back seat. “Toldya. Total douche nozzle. What the hell is an AstroTech Lopez anyway?”

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote a stupid thing. Inspired by http://www.wwe.com/article/seth-rollins-sharknado-4 and intergalaticbooty. If the story is a little confusing, I suggest reading that short article. Apparently everything I write is inspired by things I see on tumblr. Fudged with the timeline a little. Set sometime before Money in the Bank. Rough and un-edited. May add more later. I’m so so sorry. I don’t know what I’m doing with my life.


End file.
